The Sad, Sad Tale of Chickenfoot: Dib's POV
by Jaywings
Summary: The Chickenfoot episode, written from Dib's point of view.


"…In the end, even Mysterious Mysteries doesn't know what or who is haunting this fork. Maybe it's _this _guy!"

On the TV screen, footage of a floating fork changes to an image of a folder with a picture of a hobo or something paper-clipped to it. I consider it. The fork looked like it was being suspended in the air by a string rather than anything paranormal, but all the same…

"The truth… is a mystery!" the Mysterious Mysteries anchor says.

"Wow, what if it _is_ that guy?" I marvel, and write something in the notepad I always keep handy. This is something I do almost every evening; watch my favorite show (Mysterious Mysteries) with a pair of binoculars to notice any tiny details in the paranormal footage, and a notebook to record any notes. Tonight I have the extra bonus of Chinese food and Poop Cola (which actually tastes slightly better than it sounds).

The anchor says, "Next on Mysterious Mysteries, the mysterious, the horrible, CHICKENFOOT!"

…Chickenfoot? You've gotta be kidding.

On the TV, footage of a giant chicken-thing appears. It pecks at the ground and digs through the dumpster. But there's something weird about it… other than it being a giant chicken, I mean… hey…

"Wait, that looks like a guy in a Mr. Chicky Licky suit!" I realize. I grab the binoculars and use them to look at the screen. "You can see the zipper!"

Something happens onscreen and Chickenfoot runs toward the camera. The frame freezes on his face… his _human_ face, looking out through the mask in the chicken costume…

"That _is_ a guy in a Mr. Chicky Licky suit!" I say. "What kind of idiots do they think we _are?_"

The front door opens then. I look over and see a bunch of hover screens floating in. Dad is on the first one. The ones behind him display people that I've never seen before. Dad's hover screen stays in the doorway while the others float around the room.

"Hello, Son!" Dad says, his hover screen floating toward me. "I'm giving these world leaders a tour of our home!"

A tour? Huh, he never told me about this… Whatever. They'll leave soon and in the meantime I just won't say anything. Nothing good ever happens when I talk to any guests Dad has over. I take some bites of Chinese food.

One of the hover screens comes over to me. "Who is the big-headed boy?" the man displayed on it asks.

"This is my son, Dib, the future of the Membrane Empire!" Dad replies. The rest of the world leaders float over and hover around me.

Ah, okay, I'll talk to them. "Actually, I'm a paranormal investigator!" I say proudly. I hope they notice Mysterious Mysteries playing on the TV.

Dad sounds weary when he says, "He's a bit insane at the moment, but he'll get over it."

Aw, man, I wish he hadn't said that in front of a bunch of world leaders! "Dad, paranormal investigation is a legitimate field of study!"

Right on cue, the Mysterious Mysteries anchor says, "We asked a legitimate paranormal investigator what he had to say about Chickenfoot."

Bill is shown on the screen. Bill, the paranormal investigator I was assigned to on Career Day at Skool. He believes in fake paranormal things and scoffs at the real stuff—I guess it figures that he would believe in Chickenfoot.

"Chickenfoot is not a real chicken," Bill says. Huh! Maybe I was wrong! Maybe he really doesn't—"He's a space chicken… from a planet where pig demons rule!"

….Oh. Never mind. I quickly mute the TV and hope that the world leaders actually _hadn't _been paying attention to it.

"Paranormal investigator?" the Japanese world leader says to Dad. "Your son believes these things? Are the rest of the people in your country crazy like this boy?" He laughs, and the other leaders join in.

"We'll discuss this later!" Dad says shortly. He sounds irritated. As irritated as he can look, with most of his face covered by his collar and goggles. Is he annoyed with me? I didn't do anything wrong!

One by one, still laughing, the world leaders and Dad hover away. I throw the carton of Chinese food onto the floor. I've lost my appetite.

"Mysterious Mysteries is getting desperate for ratings!" I mutter when everyone has left. "This Chicken foot story is undermining everything that serious paranormal studies stand for! That _I _stand for! It _must_ be stopped!"

In my frenzy I jump onto the top of the couch with the remote and press several buttons on it, trying to un-mute it or turn it off or something and—AAAAHHHH!—ouch. I've lost my balance and fallen off.

* * *

Okay. Here it is, the Chicky Licky. I head toward it, walking right through puddles on the wet street and barely noticing it. When I enter the restaurant, it's… kind of a strange scene. I mean, a man who looks like a hobo is by the service window, demanding slaw.

"You have your slaw, Sir!" a man at the service window says in reply to him.

"I want my slaw!" the hobo says. What is slaw? Coleslaw?

"You _have _your slaw, Sir!"

"_I want my slaw!_"

The exchange continues in this way for some time. A woman at the service window finally notices me standing there and says, "What kinda chicken you want, mister?"

"Actually, I want some information about Chickenfoot," I reply.

The entire restaurant goes silent. Even the slaw argument has ceased. Everyone backs away from me, as if I said I have some contagious disease or something.

The woman comes back to the window, looking at me in earnest. "Don't say that name 'round here! He is the demon beast!" …Had she been talking to Bill? "We've lost three chicken cookers since he come around!"

"Chickenfoot _ate_ them?" I gasp.

"No, they got better jobs…" the woman says. "But I hate that chicken beast! Get out!" She climbs onto the counter and starts pounding on the glass of the service window. "Get out now! Before you get a better job too!"

The man that had been arguing with the hobo rushes back and grabs the woman's shoulders.

"Maria, don't make a scene!" he says. He turns to me and I see that his nametag says Eric. "Young maaan!" He pushes out a drawer full of piles of chicken and a weird chicken toy. "Perhaps you should try a Mr. Chicky meal! Are you thirsty for chicken?"

You know, despite being in a drawer, that chicken actually looks pretty good. And I'm hungry. I shouldn't have thrown away my Chinese food. I start to reach for it, then come to my senses and pull my hand back. "Don't try to throw me off track!"

"No, no!" Eric says. "The Chicky meal! It comes with a dirty chicken toy! The head comes off and can be used like a little grappling hook!"

What… really? I pick up the dirty chicken toy and press a button on it. The head comes off and falls to the floor, connected to a string. I press the button again and the string retracts. "That's… a weird thing for a chicken to do."

Eric holds up another chicken toy. "The dirty chicken has a seeeecret!"

He motions for me to follow him somewhere. Maybe I'm about to get a lead on the Chickenfoot story! And it's only been about a half hour! He leads me into the meat locker, which is a bit odd, but everything about this case is odd. While we're here I grab a chicken leg. I'm still hungry. And, what the… a giant shark jaw hangs over the shelves of meat. I motion to it to ask Eric what it's doing there but he just motions for me to be quiet and then to come over, and shuts the meat locker door.

What if we're trapped in here now? That would be just my luck. But even that thought can't put a damper on my excitement over having a possible lead!

"Okay, what's the secret of Chickenfoot?" I ask.

"Ask… the dirty chicken!" Eric says. He proceeds to hold it in front of my face and squeak it a bunch of times. Um… okay.

"What is the secret… um, dirty… chicken?" I say, feeling stupid. Eric keeps on squeaking the chicken toy. Over and over again. Isn't he going to answer me? "Quit it," I mutter. "Quit it. Quit that."

"Chickenfoot is a mass of chicken-y evil!" Eric says. The light flashes in a way that I suppose would have been dramatic if he hadn't been continuing to squeeze the chicken toy and ruin the effect. "He has come back to avenge the souls of all his chicken brothers! Ooooohhhhoooooohhhh!"

"Oh come on, it's a guy in a chicken suit!" I shout, not able to take any more. "Don't you have any hard facts?" I grab the dirty chicken toy from Eric so he'll stop squeezing it. "I want hard facts!"

Eric ducks behind a barrel. "Don't hurt me!"

The light is still flickering. I grab a piece of cloth and climb a ladder to attempt to tighten the lightbulb.

"They say Chickenfoot lives in an apartment building on Third Street," Eric says. He grabs a whole chicken from the meat shelf and waves it around, going "OOOOOHHHOOOOHHH!"

I look at him incredulously. "The mass of chicken-y evil… has an apartment?"

And just like that, the lightbulb I've been trying to fix explodes in my face.

* * *

There is only one apartment building on Third Street that I can see. The "Sweaty Pits" apartment complex. Kind of makes me wonder who named these things. I head up the stairs outside the building and read a list of the people that live here.

Let's see… "Govern, Rodriguez, Trueheart, Smacky…" I read. Huh, Torque Smacky must live here! But… "No Chickenfoot! The old man lied to me!"

A man wearing a long trenchcoat with a collar that covers part of his face knocks into me. "Excuse me," he says. He's making some sort of weird gobbling noise. He walks into the building and starts going up the stairs inside. I look down at the ground and see that he's left behind… _feathers_.

"Hey…" I run inside. "Wait!" I hurry up the stairs, slide across the floor when I reach the top, and chase after the man when I catch sight of him again. He's Chickenfoot, I know it! Can't let him get away! "Stop! Stop!"

Chickenfoot looks back and sees me chasing him, so he takes off down the hall. I'm so intent on catching up with him that I don't see a rat standing in my way. My foot hits it and I'm sent flying. NYAAH! Why is there a rat in the hallway? What kind of health codes do they have here?

Never mind, I have to keep going. I get back to my feet and continue on… but almost immediately come to an intersection. Chickenfoot is gone. Or maybe not! There's a trail of feathers leading to a door. It's got to be him. I take a running leap at the door and kick it open.

"Give up, Chickenfoot—" I cry. However the door bounces back and smacks me in the face, knocking me back into the hallway. Okay… that hurt. I push it back open again, more slowly this time. "Give up, Chickenfoot! I've got you!"

Chickenfoot comes up to me. "Wait… you wants Chickenfoot!" he says with some sort of Irish accent. Wait, what? He's not Chickenfoot? "Ho ho, see. I'm Turkeyneck!"

…

…_Turkeyneck?_

He pulls open his trenchcoat to reveal… neck flab, and… and multiple chins and… feathers fly out…

Oh, oh man. That's nasty.

"Chickenfoot's two doors down!" he says.

"Why did you run from me?" I ask. I should just leave, though. I really, uh, don't want to stay here any longer. But I have to know for my investigation.

"I thought you were one o' those darn kids after me lucky neck meats!" He holds up his… neck flab… and shakes it around and more feathers fly out… oh man. Yeah, now I've _really_ lost my appetite.

"They're _always_ after me neck meats, doncha know!" He does some sort of smacking thing with his lips. "Ya see me neck meats? They're lucky!"

He shakes his head again and makes the weird gobbling noises from earlier.

I. HAVE. TO. GET. OUT. OF. HERE.

I back away slowly, unable to tear my eyes away from the horrible sight of him. It's like a car wreck. At last he's out of view and I run to the apartment two doors down, opening the door and ducking inside. Whatever Chickenfoot's like, he _can't_ be worse than Turkeyneck.

Although by the look of this apartment I'm not so sure anymore. There are feathers on the ground, trash everywhere, an old mattress on the floor with sheets and a pillow; there's a TV, and a… chicken coup.

"Chickenfoot?" I say. What if he's not home?

Chickens suddenly swarm at me from the corner, flying past me. "AAAHH!" I cover my face but inevitably get some scratches from their beaks and claws and am knocked to the ground again. Man, it just hasn't been a good day for me.

I get back up and take a closer look around the room. Wait, there he is! In the chicken coup! I didn't see him at first. "Chickenfoot!"

"Eh? Go away!" the real Chickenfoot replies. He shields his face with his arms… wings… and turns away from me. "Don't look at me!"

"I just wanna talk!" I say.

Chickenfoot wails, "Don't look at my face! My horrible face!"

I pick up an old, gross piece of chicken from a meal bucket lying on the ground. Ew. "What _happened _to you?"

"It's a sad, sad, revolting tale!" Chickenfoot says. Maybe I shouldn't have asked. "I was once a man, just like you. I worked in a chicken restaurant… just like you."

"I don't work in a chicken restaurant," I correct him.

He flinches away from me again. "DON'T LOOK AT ME!"

"I wasn't! Oh… just go on!"

Chickenfoot takes on a solemn expression again. "My name is… was… Chuy Rodriguez."

Suddenly I remember the apartment list I had read earlier. There had been a Rodriguez! Huh.

"I lived…" Chickenfoot (or Chuy) continues. "I laughed… I _loved!_" He jumps out of the chicken coup and flaps his arms fretfully. "But one fateful day, my destiny collided with a defective microwave oven… of doom!"

Of course "doom" would be in the name.

"Eric and Maria were arguing about potatoes," Chuy says. "They were yanking a tray of dirty dishes back and forth. I, not knowing any better, put a plate full of chicken in the defective microwave. Fate intertwined, and the container full of dirty dishes and water flew through the air, slamming into the microwave. And KABOOM!"

I jump.

"I survived, but the accident had caused an unholy fusion of man and chicken!" He covers his face again. "And now, I must survive on the fringes of society! Neither man nor chicken! Something in between! A… a chicken-y _man!_"

"The explosion probably just stuck the zipper!" I say. "I could pull it loose!" I reach for the zipper of the suit but Chuy jerks away from me.

"You speak madness, boy! Every day that goes by I become more grotesque!"

I turn away and cover my nose, muttering, "That's because you don't _bathe_."

"I can't even leave the apartment anymore!" Chuy walks over to the windowsill, picking up the group of chicken toys that sit there and hugging them tightly. "Now the chicken meal toys are my only friends! My one regret… is I never got the dirty chicken toy."

That's his only regret? But I thought he was just going on about—hang on! "Wait, you mean this?" I reach into my pocket and pull out the chicken toy that Eric had been playing with.

"AAH! AAH!" Chuy cries. "Gi-give me that!" He drops his armful of chicken toys and lunges for the one in my hand. I jump out of the way and Chuy tumbles to the ground. "Give me thaaaaaat!"

"Hold on! Only if you promise to come to the hospital with me!" I say. "I think I can put an end to this once and for all."

* * *

About an hour later Chuy sits on a medical bench, quivering, hugging the dirty chicken toy I had given him. I watch him from outside the examination room and pick up the phone attached to the wall. I have to call the media!

"Yes, send a news crew right away!" I say into it when they pick up and verify what's going on. "I have the real Chickenfoot story!"

A doctor goes into the examination room and stands next to Chuy with a hover screen displaying his x-ray. The doctor has a pointer, which she taps in her hands. "Ooh, let's go over it again. Okay." She pokes the x-ray with her pointer. "Here's the chicken head. Here's your head inside looking out the mask. See? Right there. Okay."

I enter the room and come up behind Chuy. "You see, Chuy? It's just a costume. Let us take it off because you make a total mockery of paranormal studies!" Also, I've decided to keep this doctor in mind as someone to show evidence to later. I mean, she can actually tell that he's just wearing a costume!

"No, it's not true! It's _impossible!_" Chuy cries, lying on his stomach and hiding his head in his hands.

"W-we can just unzip the back," the doctor says. She takes the zipper and starts to pull it down. Chuy jumps up and knocks her over.

"No! You taunt me! I'm a FREAK!" He rolls off the table and pelts toward the door. "I'll always be a freak!"

Well, here we go again. "It's really hard to wanna chase somebody who smells that bad," I mumble to myself. But I chase after him anyway. The future of paranormal studies is _counting_ on me.

Chuy tears along the hospital hallways, screaming, making chicken noises. He constantly looks behind him so he must have seen me running after him. He collides with a gurney that a nurse is pushing and knocks it over, dropping his chicken toy. He keeps running and this time crashes into a woman in a wheel chair. Ouch.

I kneel down and pick up the chicken toy he dropped. "Chickenfoot, come back!" I yell. "You're _not_ a freak! You're just STUPID!"

I follow Chuy out of the hospital and see him pecking around in the parking lot. He's hopping around and trying to act like a chicken. Just… _why?_

He bumps into a parked truck, causing one of the costume eyes to pop out. When he gets up and sees his reflection in the plating of the truck he screams again and sprints back into the hospital. I'll _never_ catch up with him… Wait! The dirty chicken toy—it can be used as a grappling hook!

I unhook the beak of the chicken toy—I guess you don't need the entire head for it to work—and throw it. It catches on Chuy's zipper. I pull on it but the string goes taut and, just when I realize this may not have been the best idea, I'm yanked off my feet by Chuy's momentum. He drags me along as he runs through the hospital, and it's all I can do to hang on. He goes through door after door after—

Oh, no.

This last door closed as soon as he went through it and no no no NO—AAAHH!

I smash into it, and slide to the ground. That's it, then. I've lost him. There goes my paranormal investigation career. And I may also have a concussion now.

Dimly I can hear people on the other side of the door going, "Eh, Chickenfoot!" "Chickenfoot, over here Sir! Over here!" "Chickenfoot rocks!"

And then something I never thought I'd hear. Chuy saying, "The curse is lifted! Thank you!"

What! I jump to my feet and notice that the chicken toy is caught on my side of the door. It must have pulled open Chickenfoot's zipper! This is great! I open the door and walk in.

"It was _just_ a costume!" I say.

A reporter looks at me all googly-eyed. "Chickenfoot was a fraud all along?"

Now's my time to shine. "This just proves that paranormal studies isn't a bunch of crazies believing in anything!" I say. "We also disprove the frauds!" …No matter how much misfortune befalls us along the way.

"I bet this means Bigfoot is a fraud too!" a reporter says.

"And UFOs!" another remarks.

"And hobos!"

"No, wait!" I say, waving my arms. "Those _are_ real! Except the hobos. Wait, no. They're real. I… I guess. But…" I don't even know what I'm saying anymore. "What's _wrong _with you people?"

* * *

Needless to say, when I finally got back home last night I got very little sleep. It's the next evening now and the whole story is on Mysterious Mysteries. A picture of Chuy is shown.

The show's anchor says, "And so, the legendary Chickenfoot has been exposed as a fake, calling into question all other monster sightings."

I turn off the TV. They didn't even mention me in the episode. Of course I… I guess I didn't expect any different.

"Well, that didn't turn out like I planned…" I sigh. "But at least it's finally over."

I put my arms behind my head and close my eyes. "Mmmmyep."

Maybe tonight I'll actually get a good night's sleep.


End file.
